


Benefits of Existing as Lee Dongmin

by orphan_account



Category: ASTRO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, Extreme Inaccurate Depiction of the South Korean Education System, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Part 1 Fic, Parts 2-3 Epilogue, Pining, Sanha is 19 and Dongmin is 21 and nothing rated happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Sanha’s a stressed high school student, Dongmin is marrying him, and some feelings will follow you your entire life.





	1. Benefits of Existing as Lee Dongmin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [My Little Bride](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0395140/).

“Do you have anything before hakwon?” Minhyuk asks, jumping onto Sanha’s desk just seconds after the bell rings. They have a half day today in honour of some old Goryeo king who’s name and contributions Sanha can’t remember, but still appreciates if only for the opportunity to ditch maths.

“Why?” Sanha asks, trying to decide if he should take his textbook home. He decides not to, ultimately, because it looks heavy and he can always just steal Minhyuk’s.

“There’s this new fusion food I read about online.” Minhyuk grins, flinging his own book bag off the ground with his right foot and catching it in his hand. “You know the Snowball cafe next to the park?”

“Yeah?”

“Well they have a student special where you can get ddeokbokki on your bingsoo!” Minhyuk says this like it’s a good thing.

“That’s disgusting.” Sanha replies immediately. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You like salty-sweet things.” Minhyuk argues, kicking at Sanha’s shins until they’re both stood up and ready to leave the classroom. “This is spicy-sweet. What’s the difference?”

“Ddeokkbokki has to be eaten hot.” Sanha lectures. “If it gets too cold the sauce congeals and gets all dry and forms a skin and it tastes like human flesh going down. The rice cakes are like little globs of fat.”

“Thank you, as always, for going there.”

“Bingsoo has to be eaten frozen or you’re just eating cold water that someone accidentally spilled red bean soup into. It looks like a turd floating in the toilet after someone forgets to flush.”

“You know what? I’m not even hungry anymore.”

“Eating them together is the worst of both worlds. The bingsoo melts and the ddeok gets cold and then you realised you paid for someone to spill toilet water onto your ddeokbokki and then your stomach gets upset because you’re eating hot and cold together and then the cycle starts all over again.” Sanha finishes with a flourish, laughing and pulling Minhyuk into a headlock when he tries to veer off alone. “But also I’ve got plans. Skipping hakwon today.”

“What for?” Minhyuk asks, facial expression growing serious after a couple beats. “Is your grandfather in the hospital again?”

“Nah, the old man’s still kicking.” Sanha shakes his head. “Some family friends came to visit though. Do you remember Dongmin hyung? He graduated two years ago?”

“Of course I know Dongmin sunbae; I think our painting teacher is still mourning the fact he graduated.” Minhyuk replies. “Wait, are you two friends or something? I’ve never seen you two together. You should at least steal his notes or something; rumor had it he got full points on the CSAT.”

“We weren’t really close or anything, I just saw him around since our parents hung out.” Sanha shrugs. “In all honesty I’m probably closer to his mom than I am to him; she stayed at our house for almost two months when his grandfather died.”

“Why are you guys hanging out now then?” Minhyuk asks, jumping onto the hand rails and running down them instead of taking the stairs like a normal person. What a show off. “Have you seen him since he graduated?”

“Maybe once or twice? For an hour at a dinner or something.” Sanha shrugs. “But there’s some meeting my grandpa called that he family drove up for and they’re being all suspicious about it and shit. I figure I can try and see if he knows what’s going on over lunch or something.”

“Is that him?” Minhyuk asks, and Sanha doesn’t spot anyone until he looks closer at a group of classmates crowded around a casually dressed figure in front of the gates.

“Goddammit, some things never change.” Sanha laughs, shaking his head. “Yup, probably.”

“How can a human face look like that.” Minhyuk grumbles.

“At least he doesn’t have a car yet.” Sanha notes. “Then he’d really look like an ass. Lee Dongmin, enemy of mankind.”

“How long have you known him? If you call him hyung.” Minhyuk asks, once they’ve been standing in the same place for a few seconds. Sanha’s hoping the crowd will naturally dissipate if he waits long enough.

“It’s not like we spend time together, but I’ve seen him around since forever.” Sanha answers. “This one time he took me to McDonald’s while our parents were eating at a hwae restaurant though.”

“How old were you?”

“Five maybe?”

“Nothing since then?”

“He probably thought I was too immature for him.” Sanha shrugs. “I remember grabbing like ten soft drink lids because I thought the dispenser was fun to play with. The cashier working noticed and yelled at me for being wasteful and he ended up stacking all ten lids on his drink and sticking a straw through all of them just to shut her up. Then we had to run out of there.”

“It’s amazing how you haven’t changed at all.” Minhyuk chuckles. “You’re going to be known as the 80 year old grandpa who puts on wigs to eat more samples at the grocery store when he’s too lazy to cook.”

“I resent that.” Sanha retorts. “I will definitely have some hot piece of ass to cook for me by then.” He turns to look at the fanclub, and finds they’ve actually grown in numbers. It’s probably better to move now. “Wanna help me part the red sea? Tag along and blackmail him for his notes?”

“You’re on your own.” Minhyuk declines. “See you tomorrow!”

Sanha approaches the mini fan meeting with apprehension, and when he’s close enough to blend in with the crowd he sees some of the rich assholes from the football team posing for selcas. What a joke.

“Lee Dongmin?! Is that Lee Dongmin?! Oh my God! Oh my Buddha! Is he even real?!” Sanha shrieks, voice carrying well over the conversational chatter of the students in front of him, and Sanha can’t help but continue when Dongmin glares over their heads. “He’s so handsome! Somebody hold me! He’s so handsome it’s like he was shit right out Zeus’s asshole!”

“Yoon Sanha, national representative of public indecency.” Dongmin greets with a grin, after waving and biding the others goodbye. “Have you not grown up at all?”

“Oppa! Oh my god! Oppa’s talking to me!” Sanha just continues shrieking, curling his fingers into fists and bumping them together. “His eyelashes! They’re so long! I think I might-”

“Let’s go you brat.” Dongmin sighs, interrupting the younger by abruptly dragging him forward by the tie collar and knocking the air out of his throat for a minute.

“Yeah! Like that! Choke me Oppa!”

“Let’s take a taxi.” Dongmin concludes, moving his hand to try and keep Sanha’s mouth shut with it. “I don’t want to be seen with you in public.”

Despite the annoyance in his tone and his near-bruising grip on Sanha’s shirt, the easy smile never leaves his face.

A taxi comes relatively quickly—existing as Lee Dongmin perk number 72 being the ability to grab people’s attention with ease. Sanha is self conscious enough to shut up once they board the taxi, so it’s a silent ride sans the sad crooners the taxi driver has playing on repeat. There’s a few Buzz and Min Kyunghoon songs Sanha can recognise, but the rest fly right over his head.

Dongmin asks where Sanha wants to eat, but abandons that train of thought when he’s halfway done with verbalising the question and ends up asking the driver to take them to a barbecue restaurant near Sanha’s home.

“Fancy.” Sanha notes, once they’re at the entrance. “I was expecting KFC. Are you sure you didn’t just use me as a cover for your parents? Is some forty year old chaebol wife going to pop out from a window for you to actually take on a date while I sulk on the stairs?”

“I’m not going to justify that with a response.” Dongmin rolls his eyes, holding the door open from outside instead of abandoning Sanha near the sidewalk.

Something might actually be up, all jokes aside.

Sanha doesn’t say anything once they walk into the restaurant, observing Dongmin carefully as the hostess comes to lead them to an empty booth in the restaurant. The first test is when the waitress drops off two cups of barley tea, and Sanha asks for a cup of water too. He looks to Dongmin immediately after uttering the phrase, which would normally earn him a cross-table scolding about how drinking something cold while eating something hot was going to give him constipation and send him to an early grave.

Dongmin doesn’t say anything, flipping through the menu.

The second test is when they ring the waitress back to order, and Sanha requests an order of kimchi jeon on the side. He zaps his head obnoxiously to observe Dongmin’s reaction, expecting a long explanation about why mixing starches was bad for digestion, but instead Dongmin is simply smiling and nodding at their flustered waitress.

“So, how is school going?” Dongmin asks, once the waitress is gone.

Oh to hell with the tests.

“Did you murder my dad in cold blood because you’re jealous of his relationship with me mom and bury his body-”

“Sanha I swear to god.” Dongmin interrupts, nose twitching as he leans forward and uses his left hand to block any disturbed stares from the tables around them. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re obviously acting weird.” Sanha responds, narrowing his eyes and sipping some tea. It burns his tongue, and his fingers too since it’s a metal cup and he didn’t wait long enough, but tries to maintain his expression for the sake of the interrogation.

“You’re a dumbass.” Dongmin responds, taking his cloth napkin, dabbing it into Sanha’s glass of water, and grabbing Sanha’s wrist to wrap the napkin around his fingers. “No, for the sake of shutting you up, I didn’t murder your parents, or anyone, in any kind of blood. I just thought it’d be nice to have a simple meal for the first time in a long time and potentially the last time in a long time. While you’re still civil with me. And happy.”

“Happy?” Sanha notes. “Happy?”

“You have the placement exam coming up don’t you?” Dongmin points out, retracting his hands suspiciously quickly.

“Maybe it’s drugs.” Sanha murmurs, noting the tension in Dongmin’s arms.

“No, I am not on drugs, let’s try to have a normal conversation. One subject. You. School.”

“I don’t want to talk about school.” Sanha wrinkles his nose, temporarily dropping his Dongmin investigation in order to whine. “The exam isn’t for another five months. I still have school exams to get through.”

“Your school exams don’t matter in comparison.” Dongmin replies. “But fine, let’s talk about colleges. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Your subject changes are terrible. If I don’t want to talk about colleges what are you going to think up next? Climate change? Rape culture?”

“Just answer the question and you won’t have to find out.” Dongmin sighs. “We’ve been sitting at a restaurant for ten minutes and I already feel like I need a nap. You are exhausting.”

“I’m hoping to get into Sungkyunkwan.” Sanha answers, just to change things up.

“My university?” Dongmin asks, tone suddenly lighter. “What made you choose Sungkyunkwan?”

Sanha pauses for a minute, reaches for his water, remembers that Dongmin’s napkin was in it, sets it down, reaches for his tea, doesn’t make that mistake again, and puts both elbows on the table so he can rest his head on his hands before responding. Sure, they aren’t close or anything, but maybe university has made Dongmin more open minded.

“The music program.” Sanha says, raising his voice so he sounds more brazen and less timid.

“You want to go into music?” Dongmin sputters, sitting straight up again.

This is going downhill, but the dumpster isn’t aflame yet.

“Yup.” Sanha replies, popping the ‘p.’ “Since mdidle school.”

“Are you… have you told your parents yet?” Dongmin asks, still in shock.

“My dad and I argue about it on a bi-daily basis.” Sanha nods, more determined than he feels. “I usually end up running away for a night. I’ve started keeping a spare uniform at my friend’s house so I can still get to school on time.”

“I mean, shouldn’t you take this more seriously?” Dongmin continues. “Even if you like singing, you can always keep it as a hobby while you study something else.”

“There would have to be something else I wanted to do, and there isn’t.” Sanha responds stiffly.

Some things never change.

“That’s because you’re still hung up on music.” Dongmin reasons. “Have you tried, really tried, looking into something else? I know a lot of people tell you there’s no more time when you’re a third year, but it’s not impossible to change tracks even in university. You don’t have to be so close minded about something so important to your future.”

“I know I have more time.” Sanha declares, setting the spoon he was fiddling with down so it clatters dramatically. “I’ve had plenty of time to feel bad about myself, to feel like a shitty son, to try and be more normal and give up my soul and make money, to wish I was more attractive so people wouldn’t be so shocked every time I tell them what I want to study.”

“Sanha-”

“After all, ‘What do you think you’re doing? If someone with Lee Dongmin’s face is going to be a lawyer what right do you have to study music?’ I’ve had plenty of time to make this decision and even if I can’t make it on my own two feet I’ve got plenty of time to go back to school at forty and feel like a failure.” Sanha continues, staring resolutely at the clock on the wall instead of Dongmin’s face. “But I know this is what I want to do, and what good is regret going to do me when I’m rotting and six feet under.”

“I see.” Dongmin nods, after a heavy pause. Both of them are staring at opposite ends of the table, Sanha at the pepper shaker and Dongmin at the poster advertising their spring special peach lemonade drink. “I-”

“180 grams of pork belly, sirloin, and short rib.” Their waitress announces, setting the three meats and twelve side dishes down in a flurry of arm movements. She hands Sanha the tongs before nodding at them both and walking back off.

They end up eating in silence, which is momentarily interrupted when Dongmin confirms where they are going to meeting their parents later, but Sanha ends up tuning into the couple next to them arguing about who gets to pick which movie they’re seeing. He feels bad when Dongmin ends up eating the end pieces and burnt bits that Sanha doesn’t turn in time, leaving him the tastier morsels.

I’ll be nice to him later, Sanha reasons, guiltily watching Dongmin pay with a debit card. If they ask him embarrassing questions I’ll bring up dad’s gambling problem.

That doesn’t happen.

 

 

 

 

“Hey old man!” Sanha greets, bowing despite his language before jumping to join his grandpa in bed.

“Thank you for having me” Dongmin trails after, slipping his shoes off and arranging them neatly against the wall, taking the time to straighten out the shoes Sanha’s had flung off moments before. “It’s amazing that you still have the tidiness of a wild boar.”

“Oink.” Sanha replies, laughing when his grandfather smacks him on the arm. “It’s okay because I’m cute!”

“How are you feeling?” Dongmin asks, sitting at the edge of Sanha’s grandfather’s bed. “Did you get the ginseng my mother sent?”

“Thank you all for worrying.” The old man replies. “Your mother is too generous. Can you call your parents into the room? We’ve been waiting for you two to come home.”

“I got it!” Sanha flies out of the bed, faster even though he’d been laying down while Dongmin was sitting, and Dongmin can hear his socked footsteps stomping throughout the apartment.

“It’s like he hasn’t aged since six.” His grandfather mutters, and Dongmin laughs along.

“Just like his grandfather.”

“Save those lines for your mother kid.” He replies, not displeased. Dongmin notices that Sanha’s stomping is increasing in volume again, so he slides off the bed and onto the ground while waiting for the others to return.

“We’re back!” Sanha announces, kneeling down and sliding to the back corner of the room, where he usually sits during family meetings. Dongmin’s mother makes him stand back up and and move closer to the bed though, shoving him until he and Dongmin are brushing elbows; the rest of their families fills in behind them—two sets of parents and Sanha’s three older brothers.

Sanha’s grandfather sits up in the bed, growling whenever someone gets up to help him, and maneuvers each leg with short, jerky movements until he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, just like Dongmin was moments earlier. He clear his throat four times before speaking. “Thank you all for coming today. Hajun, I trust you’ve been well.”

“Singapore is nice.” Sanha’s older brother replies. “I was a little sad to unpack my coat while traveling back.”

“The reason I wanted to speak to all of you does relate to my heart attack two weeks ago, but I want all of you to stop worrying. It’s not bad news, and the doctor has said my vitals are healthy.” He continues, lifting a finger to point at Dongmin’s mother. “Hyemi, you especially; I’m ordering you to stop worrying.”

“I understand.” She replies, with no conviction whatsoever. Dongmin’s father snorts and gets elbowed in the side in retaliation.

“But the incident did make me think about how I want to leave things once my time does come. I want to meet your grandfather again with no regrets.” He continues, turning to Dongmin now. “I think it’s important to live without regrets.”

“I agree.” Dongmin nods.

“That’s why, after all my thinking, I’ve made a decision. My last wish on Earth, before I meet your grandfather again.” Sanha’s grandfather continues, turning his gaze to Sanha now. “You two are going to get married.”

No one says a word, and not even the rustling of clothes can be heard, just the sound of the indoor heater growing in volume as everything else fades for a couple of seconds.

“Old Lee and I always talked about loyalty, and about unifying our families, and I want him to see our dream come to life with everything in my power. It’s ti-”

“W-wait.” Sanha interrupts, voice cracking.

“Don’t int-” Sanha’s father starts, but Sanha kicks the hand that comes to reprimand him for interrupting.

“Don’t fucking tell me to shut up when he’s over there spewing this shit.” Sanha replies, voice lower than it’s ever been and all the youthful banter gone from his tone. “Is this a joke? Is this a hidden camera?! What the fuck is going on?! Am I the only one surprised?! Is this because I came out last year? Grandpa, you can’t just scare me back into the closet like that, that’s not how being gay works.”

“Sanha, sit down. Let’s discuss this like adults.” His mother sighs, tone firm but expression penitent.

“Adults? What part of this conversation is consenting and rational?!” Sanha is half roaring half squeaking at this point, standing on his feet and pacing in circles between the other bodies. “What kind of sick surprise is this? Did you already know? Were you all scheming about me behind my back these days?! Is this because of Sungkyunkwan?” Sanha asks, stopping in front of his father, and sense of dread building in his stomach but the man looks ashamed instead of angry at Sanha’s episode.

“This is something I considered at great length. I only want the best for you two.” His grandfather continues, but Sanha doesn’t have it in him to explode at an elder on his deathbed so he turns back to his father.

“Is this because I want to study music? Is this because I’m loud?! Is this my punishment for being a bad child?!” Sanha shrieks. “Even so, don’t you think you’re going too far?!”

“Sanha, try to calm down for a minute.” Dongha voices, looking up at his younger brother.

“Hyung, you too?!” Sanha asks, wondering just how many people have gone behind his back. “You hate me too?!”

“Don’t-”

“I’d like to talk to grandfather alone for a few moments.” Dongmin interrupts, standing up.

“Did you know too?!” Sanha asks, running forward to stare at Dongmin’s face, horrified at Dongmin’s resigned half-grin. “You knew and you just sat there while we ate?! You knew and you didn’t say-”

“Go get some air.” Dongmin interrupts again, lips curving down for the first time today. “Everybody, please. I would like to speak to grandfather alone for a few moments.”

Sanha feels a little pathetic once he steps outside and realises how desperate he sounded, furrowing his brows when he looks angry instead. He stalks off to walk around their neighbourhood, ignoring the calls of traitors as he tries to stay hopeful. Hopeful, but still angry. Existing as Lee Dongmin perk number 12 is the ability to convince people to do things they don’t want to do, and Sanha hopes it defies intergenerational rules.

The notion of him, a hip fresh 19 year old, getting married to that crusty 21 year old is so absurd Sanha has trouble processing it, or even picturing what that would look like. It’s so absurd that his mood is somewhat lifted by the time he’s circled the neighbourhood and the front door of his apartment complex is in view again, the grey-blue glass looking less grey and more blue. The whole thing was probably a bad dream, or the indiscriminate rage of a senile old man who eats too many chicken drumsticks and gets indigestion. There’s absolutely no way, in any rational sense of the word, his perky ass is being wrapped and shipped off like an old Joseon dynasty hanbok top tied tight that has abstained from sex until some old pervert paid enough cows to have it untied.

Dongmin is waiting at outside the building, back facing Sanha, with a vice grip on the stair rails.

“Hyung?” Sanha calls, voice more frightened and vulnerable than he wants it to sound, so he furrows his brows quickly, before Dongmin’s turned around.

“Hey.” Dongmin nods, body turned but feet not moving to walk down the stairs.

“Well?”

“It’s happening.” Dongmin says.

Dongmin says more after that, something about waiting until Sanha’s graduated and wedding plans and his older brothers and a house in Ilsan, but Sanha lets them turn from words into meaningless sounds, inner turmoil drowning them out soon enough. He’s too confused, too taken aback, to be truly angry.

“Hyung.” Sanha interrupts Dongmin’s frantic rambling. “Lee Dongmin-sshi. Your face is truly useless to me now. Please don’t say my name anymore.”

Sanha walks away slowly at first, the ringing in his ears drowning out the sound of traffic, the sound of pavement, the potential sound of Dongmin being offended like he always is. Then he starts to feel tense, feel out of control, feel his skin prickle and he becomes extremely aware of the way the wind tousles the baby hairs cropping up near his sideburns. Everything is prickling, the inside of his shirt is starting to get misty, and Sanha is starting to feel a little excited, a little ambitious, a little ready to run into traffic and hurtle cars instead of waiting for the pedestrian light to turn on.

He ends up in Minhyuk’s neighbourhood, getting into his friend’s building by waving stiffly at a guard who recognises him, and barely restrains himself from kicking at the door furiously before knocking three times.

“Sanha?” Minhyuk asks, opening the door, grin fading at whatever Sanha’s face looks like.

“Minhyuk.” Sanha nods, not moving from outside the door.

“You, uh, wanna come in?” Minhyuk asks, opening the door wider.

“Park Minhyuk.” Sanha repeats.

“Yoon Sanha.”

“Park Minhyuk. Guess what?”

“What?”

“Park Minhyuk.” Sanha finally looks up, wild smile on his face. “Guess what? I’m getting married.”

It’s like an out of body experiences what happens next, but one moment he considers collapsing under the door frame and crying, and the next he’s punching Minhyuk in the right eye.

 

 

 

 

“We’re sorry for fighting.” Sanha and Minhyuk drone, hands braced against the wall and heads hung low as their principal tears them a new one. The bastard’s been running his mouth for at least half an hour now, talking about third years that need to manage stress better and think about the big picture, and he actually lectures them for so long they forget they’re mad at each other in favour of mutually hating him.

“Six years of friendship.” Minhyuk sighs once they’ve been released. Both of them should technically be heading back to make the last part of Instructor Kwon’s physics lesson, but Sanha would honestly maybe rather get paddled again. At least that keeps him awake.

“Don’t start again.” Sanha groans.

“Six years of friendship all down the drain.” Minhyuk calls dramatically, as they both meander down the empty hallway.

“I don’t know why they’re so pissed. It’s not like we fought at school.” Sanha complains, rolling his shoulder and wincing when his arm screams in response. Minhyuk must have kneed him there when they were on the ground yesterday.

“Alternatively, you could have just not punched me.” Minhyuk responds dryly, hand coming up to feel the tender skin around his black eye.

“Alternatively, you could have not punched back.”

“That was pure self defense. My precious face was about to be ruined.”

“Next time it’ll be your stomach. Somewhere less noticeable.” Sanha compromises, giggling when Minhyuk shoves him into the wall.

They both end up on the roof, staring out at the courtyard to watch for when students flood out for lunch.

“Engaged, huh?” Minhyuk asks, intercepting the hand Sanha shoots out to punch him with. “Stop taking it out on me; it’s not my fault you’re stuck with the damn guy.”

“What am I gonna do, punch my grandpa?” Sanha groans.

“Well if he dies then you won’t have to get married.” Minhyuk reasons, and takes the kick Sanha sends him. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I was thinking the same thing.” Sanha sighs.

“Are you sure you two aren’t close? Getting set up feels really out of the blue.”

“I didn’t even have his number until he texted me this morning.” Sanha sighs, whipping his phone out of his pocket and throwing it at Minhyuk’s face.

 **From: ??? ｜XXX-XXX-XXXX**  
I don’t know if you’re  
sleeping on a park bench  
somewhere but don’t miss  
school.

 **From: ??? ｜XXX-XXX-XXXX**  
Also, in case you forgot, they  
agreed to put off the wedding until  
after you graduate if we go on dates  
every friday. You mom said you didn’t  
gave cram school then.

 **From: ??? ｜XXX-XXX-XXXX**  
I’ll pick you up after class

“You still haven’t saved his number?”

“Why the hell would I do that? It’s not like it could be anyone else, who the fuck else types properly in texts.” Sanha argues. “Also, who sends three texts at once? It’s not like there’s a word limit.”

“Sanha, you text with single words.”

“Shut up.”

“Single syllables, if you’re bored.”

“Minhyuk!” Sanha cries, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. “I don’t want to get married!”

“I know!”

“I’m trying to calm down!”

“I didn’t know!”

“But then I remember and I get angry again.” Sanha sighs. “I didn’t really realise when we woke up this morning, but then your mom told me to drink water before eating and Dongmin hyung always talks about drinking water and-”

“Are you sure you two aren’t close?” Minhyuk interrupts, skeptical.

“Why don’t you just find out for yourself.” Sanha sighs.

“How?”

“What are you doing after class today?” Sanha grins, genuinely excited for the first time that day, wondering how Dongmin will react.

Dongmin, unlike yesterday, doesn’t disappoint.

“He’s coming with us?” Dongmin asks, walking sideways in disbelief as the two high schoolers trail after him. His mouth is still smiling but there’s a lot of eyebrow acrobatics going on.

“Wow, your college degree really is useless. Your basic observational skills are failing you.” Sanha replies, Minhyuk’s supportive snort following.

“Sorry, it’s just been years since I’ve been on a date with someone immature enough to need a chaperone.” Dongmin snides back.

“Third wheeling is a realistic part of the romantic experience.” Minhyuk replies. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sanha’s friend, Park Minhyuk.”

“So you’re the one he stayed with last night.” Dongmin notes, looking Minhyuk up and down.

“Pervert.” Sanha notes; Dongmin punches him in the arm instead of acknowledging the comment.

“Is he your boyfriend or something? Here to tell me that you two are in love so you can’t marry me?” Dongmin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Would that work?” Sanha replies, realisation dawning on him. “Wait, who cares about you, do you think that would work on grandpa?”

“Do you think that would work on grandpa?” Dongmin parrots, tone nasal and mocking. “The last time your grandpa changed his mind about something was 1972. Give it up.”

“I’m not his boyfriend.” Minhyuk chimes in. “I’m just here to see if you’re a sexual predator.”

“Oh my god you two are the same.” Dongmin groans, when Minhyuk’s voice carries and some aunties shopping shoot the three of them strange looks.

“I mean he’s still underage, even if you’re only two years older.” Minhyuk explains. “I need to properly vet you since Sanha’s family won’t do the job.”

“They’ve been vetting me for 21 years already.” Dongmin sighs, turning back around so he’s not facing them anymore. “I’ll have you know his brothers were very upset when he didn’t come home last night.”

“Where are we going, anyway.” Sanha realises, noticing that he no longer recognises where they’re walking. He usually heads south to go home and east for the subway station, but he hasn’t wandered this far west of his high school.

“There’s cafe called Snow Ball up ahead.” Dongmin replies, pulling out his phone. “Apparently they have a bunch of limited edition savory bingsoo dishes. I’ve been meaning to try them out for a while now.”

Sanha groans while Minhyuk’s face lights up.

“It’s actually you two who are the same.” Sanha sighs, meeting Dongmin’s eye when he turns around at Sanha’s annoyed groan. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The bingsoo is disgusting and Sanha is amazed at how anyone thought the recipes would do well. The cafe is fuller than it usually is mid-afternoon on a weekday though, so maybe the novelty is what’s driving business. It does serve it’s purpose though, because the strange taste takes up nearly half an hour of conversation, until the two bowls Dongmin and Minhyuk ordered are empty.

“Well thank you for the food, but I’ll leave you two alone now.” Minhyuk declares, wiping his mouth on a napkin and standing up despite Sanha’s protests.

“Where are you going?!”

“He seems like an okay guy.” Minhyuk shrugs. “And I have work to do. See you.”

“Have a nice day!” Dongmin bids goodbye, grin on level-ten-cherub-mode, before he turns back to Sanha with a raised eyebrow. “Was that some sort of test?”

“That was a test for Minhyuk and he failed miserably.” Sanha announces, banging his fist on the table and pouting. “I need new friends.”

“Giving you some advice as an upperclassmen-”

“I’ll pass, actuall-”

“Someone in your position may just want to take what you can get.” Dongmin finishes, sitting back in his seat. “Now that we’re alone though, I feel like we should make some ground rules.”

“Can rule number one be not combining bingsoo and ddeokbokki?” Sanha asks, wrinkling his nose when the stench of condensed milk mixed with red pepper paste hits his nose. This may be turning into a traumatic experience, week, life period for him.

“Rules about our marriage.” Dongmin corrects, smelling the same thing and moving both bowls away from them. “Given the… circumstances.”

“My rule still applies.” Sanha argues.

“Fine, fine, now we need number two.” Dongmin shrugs. “For rule number two you have to stop running away from things.”

“I don’t run away from things.” Sanha is affronted. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I will give you that.” Dongmin acquiesces. “I was expecting you to be halfway to Spain by now. You’ve grown up.” Dongmin admits, and then looks down to see Sanha shredding some of their used napkins with his fingers. “Kind of.”

“I still veto that rule. I like sleeping over at Minhyuk’s.” Sanha repeats.

“After we move in together,” Dongmin amends, continuing despite Sanha’s squawk, “you aren’t allowed to run away without contact. It’s too stressful. I’m supposed to be marrying a human, not a trigger happy dog.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re going along with all of this so easily.” Sanha points out, fingers abandoning the napkins to tap on the table as he contemplates. “No matter how much of a people-pleasing-do-gooder-enemy-of-normal-men you are, you can’t possibly _want_ to be married to me.”

“My mom confessed what was happening earlier. I’ve had more time to process.” Dongmin shrugs. “Back to-”

“I don’t buy it; try again.”

“I’m more mature.”

“If you were more mature you would realise that grandpa’s fucking losing it.”

“Think about it practically.” Dongmin sighs. “Your grandfather has his last wish. We grand his last wish. Then after… after some time, he’s gone, and then we divorce and it’s like it never happened.” Dongmin explains. “Everyone wins.”

“You can’t possibly have no interest in dating or sleeping around. You’re a university student. The hard days are over. All you’ve got is time.” Sanha argues.

“I never said I had no interest in dating or sleeping around, just that-”

“Okay, rule number two, if we move in together you have to have sex in outside. Somewhere else. Motels.” Sanha interrupts. Dongmin’s excuses are endless; he’s not going to get anywhere just asking him.

“You want to have sex in a motel?” Dongmin repeats, head tilting to the side.

“Ew, no, what?! When you have sex _with other people_ , dumbass. I don’t need to come home to you half naked on the couch.” Sanha replies, sitting up so he has room to plant both feat on the seat of his chair.

“Do we really need to make that a rule.” Dongmin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Despite the circumstances, if we date around and someone finds out then we’re screwed. We probably shouldn’t be telling people we’re getting married to wait out your grandpa’s lifespan.”

“You’re right… but I don’t want to be lonely for the next ten years.” Sanha wrinkles his nose. “Let’s come back to your sex life.”

“I would prefer we not.”

“Moving onto me though,”

“Something I would also prefer we not discuss.”

“I want to go on at least one group blind date.” Sanha argues. “It can even be before we get married. Just one.”

“Why one specifically?” Dongmin asks, more curious than disapproving.

“Because I’m a virile young man.” Sanha retorts. “Who has never been on a date in his first two years of high school because he has no time between his full time duties as a slave to the South Korean education system and angsty musician. And regrets it deeply.”

“One is fine.” Dongmin nods, after some needlessly serious contemplation in Sanha’s opinion. “Rule number four is that you’re not allowed to wear your school uniform when we hang out.”

“What? You’re the one who keeps on meeting me at school.”

“Bring a chance of clothes to school then.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I feel weird looking at you in a uniform.” Dongmin’s says, expression unreadable. “Like…”

“A pervert!” Sanha realises, and starts cackling despite the judgment surrounding them.

“I will not,” Dongmin groans, resting his head on the table, “until the day I die, ever get used to taking you out in public.”

“You feel like a pervert! A fetishist!”

“Our next date is going to be in a car. With tinted windows. In an abandoned parking lot.”

“Abduction is not one of my kinks.” Sanha replies, mock-serious. “I’m going to have to give you a red light on that one.”

“I hate you.”

“If you’re into dressing up though, I think the drama club has some nurse uniforms I can borrow.”

“Hate. Hate. Hate.”

 

 

 

 

Dongmin’s university life doesn’t really cross Sanha’s mind until their second ‘date.’ He would, now that he’s thinking about it, hypothetically picture some sort of F4-esque clan of pretty boys strolling through campus with students throwing themselves at their feet so none of their fancy loafer soles ever touch the dirty, dirty ground. The asshole probably donned fake glasses only during courses to make the professors think he’s more studious than he actually is, and he spends his evenings sitting atop a throne on a ping pong table while drunk college kids alternate between doing shots and worshipping Dongmin’s face.

What Sanha doesn’t expect is to be waiting outside a McDonald’s, having changed out of his uniform into a t-shirt and overalls, and see Dongmin waving at him from the parking lot. Well, he does kind of expect that, but what he actually doesn’t expect is for three people to pop up from behind Dongmin and start sprinting in Sanha’s direction, a salad of different heights and facial features, with no signs of stopping, until they have him surrounded as they chant some strange spell. He feels like he’s in the midst of some sacrificial ritual.

Never mind, they’re just singing happy birthday.

“I don’t know if it’s actually you’re birthday.” One of them blurts out, interrupting the song. He’s not necessarily ‘send half of the student body into a prostrating craze’ handsome, but he’s got the most rectangular head Sanha’s ever seen and a very approachable smile. “But the wedding march wasn’t dramatic enough so this was what we went with last minute.”

“I much prefer happy birthday anyway.” Sanha shrugs in response. “The rift at the end was unnecessary but very well done.”

“Thank you.” Rectangle smiles, smile joined by the other two shorter members.

“You must be Dongmin’s fiance.” The one with a baseball cap exclaims, suddenly latched onto Sanha’s arm. “He got drunk one day and spilled about how he’s apparently engaged, but he’s been hiding the poor fella from us since then.”

“But we’re roommates and I overheard him making plans with you on the phone, sorry for eavesdropping, so we figured we’d just crash the party.” Rectangle explains.

“Third wheeling is an authentic part of the romantic experience.” Baseball cap nods. “Or fifth wheeling, while we’re at it.”

“Are you really old enough to be married?” Number three says, slightly apprehensive. “I mean you’re tall, but I’m probably going to have trouble looking him in the eye after your honey moon.”

Dongmin is approaching them now, having broken into a distressed jog when he was overtaken by his pack of friends, and looks even more distressed than he had when Sanha’s grandfather was damning them both for life a few weeks ago. Sanha briefly members a vow to be nicer to the guy after he had paid for food, and Sanha is nothing if not a bro of his word, so he concocts a diversion plan to put into place once Dongmin reaches them.

“Sorry that you’re dragged into this, but you can’t imagine how nice it is to actually have dirt on Lee Dongmin.” The Rectangle says.

“Not that you’re dirt, but the guy doesn’t get embarrassed easily. You really gotta work for that debilitating humiliation.” Baseball cap adds on.

“Sorry-” Dongmin pants, once he’s reached their circle.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Sanha replies, setting his bag down. “But you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“What?” Rectangle asks.

“Eeh, don’t do that.” Number three replies.

“Not that I wouldn’t marry this loser given all the cash he’s going to make in ten years,” Sanha starts, throwing an arm around Dongmin and wincing when he realises how sweaty the guy’s neck is, “but incest is still illegal in South Korea.”

“What.” Dongmin stutters, turning his head to catch Sanha’s eye and immediately turning back around when he notices how close their heads are.

“My name is Lee Eunhyuk.” Sanha finishes, holding a ‘v’ sign up to his eye. “Dongmin hyung’s cousin. Nice to meet you. Please take care of me.”

“Really?” Rectangle is the first to break the silence as the five of them stand around staring at each other, only sound the muted chatter of those in McDonalds and Dongmin’s panting.

“Fucking hell.” Dongmin sighs, escaping from under Sanha’s arm and hooking his own around the younger’s neck. “What am I going to do with you?” Dongmin finishes, immedately jerking Sanha down onto the knee he brings up, jabbing him right in the stomach.

“This is spousal abuse.” Sanha whines, pouting as they all five of them make their way back to the subway station four of them just came out from. “I think my stomach’s going to bruise.”

“What were you thinking?” Dongmin rolls his eyes, picking Sanha’s book bag up from where it’s being dragged along the sidewalk and swinging it over his own shoulder. “What on Earth could you possibly be thinking.”

“I was trying to do you a favour!” Sanha protests. “You don’t handle embarrassment well. Or teasing. You usually end up punching people, mostly me, and then you get really angry. Why do you have to take everything so personally?”

“Moving on.” Dongmin brushes the insult aside. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“I think he looks cute.” Rectangle, who had just introduced himself properly as Moonbin seconds ago, chimes in.

“Thank you.” Sanha grins, high-fiving the other.

“When I said change out of your high school uniform I didn’t mean put on an elementary schooler’s.” Dongmin says, pulling at the straps of the overalls. “I can’t believe they make these in your size.”

“If they make adult diapers I’m sure finding overalls wasn’t too difficult.” Number three, properly named Jinwoo, comments. He laughs at Dongmin’s scandalised expression. “Sometimes the elderly have bowel movement issues. I don’t know what your nasty ass was thinking about.”

“This may legitimately be the worst day of my life.” Dongmin groans, his displeasure swallowed by Sanha’s cackle.

“Jinwoo hyung is my favourite.” Sanha declares, detaching himself from Dongmin’s attempt to right all the wrong in the world by pulling on his overall straps and tackling Jinwoo.

Dongmin just groans louder.

The lot of them end up back on Sungkyunkwan’s campus, four of them walking mindlessly out of muscle memory and Sanha just excited and along for the ride. Dongmin bemoans having to make the entire trip again, since he has to meet Sanha’s mother for their ‘date’ to count, but Sanha ignores him in favour of looking around campus. The first thing he notices are the food options, and how many inexpensive takeout cafes there are. He lives in more of a family-residential neighbourhood, so there’s some street stalls and nicer restaurants but not much in between.

“You’re probably hungry, aren’t you.” Dongmin asks, before Sanha can be led away by the siren sound that is all the food smells surrounding them.

“I’m hungry!” Myungjun, formerly baseball cap, replies.

“No one was asking.” Dongmin retorts.

“You were literally just asking though.”

“He was asking his fiance.” Jinwoo notes, making a big deal out of cupping his hands between his mouth and Myungjun’s ear, and then speaking loud enough for them all to hear anyway.

“I want pizza.” Sanha interrupts, not wanting to go down that road. “Lots of pizza. And tangsuyuk. Maybe fries.”

“We’re not going to three different restaurants for one snack.” Dongmin scolds.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea!” Jinwoo ignores his disgruntled underclassmen and throws an arm around Sanha. “We’ll get the pizza, Dongmin grab the tangsuyuk, and Myungjun hyung can hit the KFC. Moonbin just wait in your apartment and we’ll meet back there in twenty.”

Dongmin had to sit through half an hour of Minhyuk referring to him as a sugar daddy, a pervert, a fig three, and some combinations of the the three so Sanha is annoyed, but understanding, at Jinwoo’s light vetting.

“We honestly don’t really know each other very well and I’m probably closer with his mom than I am with him but it’s my grandfather’s dying wish that we get married so we’re just going to go through with it.” Sanha spits out, not quite sure how else to explain when he fell in ‘love’ with Dongmin. “Honestly neither of us is really happy about this whole thing but there are worse people in the world. Murderers. Politicians. Kim Yeongcheol.”

“Good to know you’re not selling him short.” Jinwoo laughs, as they’re both leaning against a wall by the cashier’s counter and waiting for their pizza to come out of the oven. “But really? You expect me to believe that you two are getting married just like that? No feelings whatsoever?”

“I mean, it wasn’t really our idea.” Sanha shrugs.

“Have you ever thought about Dongmin that way though? You’re at least gay, right? Have you ever found him attractive?” Jinwoo asks.

“I mean, everyone knows he’s attractive.” Sanha answers. “But it’s more of a concept than a relevant fact. It’s like memorsing the periodic table. Sure, all of it’s true, but I don’t actually care and it’s not relevant to my life.”

“Ouch.” Jinwoo comments. “But that’s fair, given the circumstances. Maybe you should try though.”

“Finding him attractive? That’s not-”

“No, not that, but just paying more attention to each other.” Jinwoo clarifies. “Thinking about what marrying him will be like. You’re going to be together at least as roommates for the better half of a decade.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” Sanha admits, trying to conjure up an image of Dongmin in his head. “How is that different from just talking to him?”

“When you see him, at least for today, try to to imagine what he’s thinking.” Jinwoo explains. “Just try to be in his shoes.”

“Wow, my name’s Chan Dongmin and-” Sanha starts, deepening his voice and attempting a monotone, but Jinwoo stops him.

“Seriously though.” Jinwoo emphasizes, and Sanha nods meekly when he sees that Jinwoo isn’t smiling. “Don’t worry too hard if nothing comes to mind, but just think about what he’s thinking. Once that gets easier try thinking about what he’s feeling, then what he wants.”

“This is a lot of one-sided work.” Sanha whines.

“You’re a bright kid.” Jinwoo laughs, head jerking up when their queue number is called. “You can do this.”

Moonbin and Dongmin are apparently roommates, and they live in the sole male dormitory on campus. It’s near the student union and across from the graduate student library, comments Jinwoo starts making when Sanha brings up the fact he sees himself here by next year. The dorm is just very narrow—the building is narrow, the elevator could fit maybe four people comfortably, the hallways two and a half across, but the rooms are decently sized and come furnished. They’re the last ones there, and when Sanha walks in he spots a couple of bean bags and a spread of snacks on a glass coffee table.

“Is that kimchi jeon?!” Sanha exclaims, running inside and kicking his shoes off after he’s sat down. “Thank you, whoever I need to thank.”

“Thank Lee Dongmin’s mother.” Myungjun laughs, eating chips. “The part time worker at the Chinese restaurant had a thing for Dongmin and gave him an extra side when he went to buy tangsuyuk.

“Existing as Lee Dongmin perk number 32.” Sanha nods solemnly, picking a piece of the pork up with a toothpick and chewing. “Sure he may be homeless someday, and maybe broke, but Lee Dongmin will never go hungry. Where is Dongmin hyung anyway?”

“I think he’s sulking in his room.” Moonbin chuckles, standing up and ripping the top of the pizza box off to make a makeshift plate. “I’ll bring him food before he starts stomping around to make sure we know he’s gone.”

Sanha thinks there’s sauce stuck on his face when he first sees Jinwoo glaring at him knowingly, but remembers his homework assignment from an hour ago soon enough and shoots the guy a thumbs up sign. Dongmin is in his room alone, even though he has company, which conceptually conflicts with everything Sanha knows about Dongmin. He’s proper, he’s too mature for his own good, and he definitely doesn’t sulk. He’s definitely sulking though, because Sanha can hear the rattling of cheap floorboards through a slightly ajar door. Dongmin probably acts younger when he’s on campus, with one younger friend and two older ones. Sanha could probably dig deeper, but he’s still a bit stuck on the concept of Dongmin sulking. What could possibly make Dongmin sulk?

“What were you guys doing earlier today?” Sanha blurts out. “Were you just following Dongmin hyung around?”

“No, Moonbin heard him talking to you on the phone yesterday so we knew when and where.” Myungjun laughs, sliding closer so they’re at a comfortable speaking distance. “As much of a priority embarrassing Lee Dongmin is, we still all have classes and shit.”

“What’s this?” Jinwoo asks, laying down and feeling something rectangular jab him in the side.

“That’s a laptop.” Myungjun answers.

“Let’s watch something!” Jinwoo decides. “I hate watching movies in movie theatres; what’s the point of watching if you can’t talk about it?”

“Me too!” Sanha exclaims, perking up. “I can’t help it. I’ve gotten kicked out like eight times at this point.”

“Eleven.” Jinwoo brags, crossing his arms across his chest before he loosens the posture to fist bump Sanha.

“Anything but horror.” Myungjun agrees, taking a pillow off one of the bean bags and laying on it as Jinwoo opens the laptop. “Nothing sad either. I have to go study after this.”

“A TV show? Those are nice and wrapped up after an hour.” Jinwoo suggests. “A crime show? I like those.”

“Me too!” Sanha agrees again. “My favourte movie is Mr. Bean.”

“Wait, you mean the bird looking guy? The really dumb one?” Myungjun asks, face scrunching up. “I don’t think that counts as a crime piece.”

“It may not be a comedy piece, but it’s art.” Sanha argues, passionately talking with his hands and flinging the tangsuyuk piece he had skewered across the room. A nice little surprise for their absentee hosts. “It combines every relevant genre in film.”

“You have to be joking.” Jinwoo groans. “I couldn’t even get halfway through that movie, the guy’s face gives me more nightmares than an actually horror movie.

“Take that back!” Sanha cries, launching himself at Jinwoo’s back and ending up crashing into Myungjun when Jinwoo deflects.

They never end up watching a movie, too busy arguing about the merits of Mr. Bean. By the time Sanha’s convinced the other two to consider giving Mr. Bean another shot, Dongmin and Moonbin are back from their secret meeting and Dongmin takes one look at the state of his living room before grabbing Sanha by the collar and telling him to bid the rest of them goodbye.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk.” Moonbin says, patting Sanha on the head. “You should come over again soon. Whenever.”

“He needs to study for the CSAT.” Dongmin turns the offer down before Sanha can refuse. “If you don’t have your shoes on in the next sixty seconds-”

“I’m putting them on!” Sanha screams, running to grab his sneakers. “Bye Myungjun hyung! Jinwoo hyung! I will be calling you in the near future to quiz you on Mr. Bean!”

“You guys didn’t exchange numbers.” Dongmin groans, temporarily distracted from his plight to kick Sanha out, and throws an empty aloe water bottle at Myungjun when he just sticks his tongue out and cackles.

Both of them walk silently out of the building and into the night. It’s dark out already but not pitch black, and with all the street lights Sanha can clearly make out the image of Dongmin walking in front of him, Sanha’s book bag in the other’s right hand. Sanha just stares forward blankly for a good fifteen minutes, feet following Dongmin on their own, but once they get to the subway station he remembers Jinwoo’s homework.

 _“He must be a masochist.”_ Sanha concludes, watching Dongmin swing the bag over one shoulder as they stand on the train.

“I had fun today.” Sanha comments, hoping Dongmin will give him more to work with. “10/10, would date again.”

“All you did was eat and yell at Jinwoo hyung about Mr. Bean.” Dongmin replies. “I wasn’t even there half the time and it was exhausting.”

“We probably could have just called my mom if you’re tired.” Sanha replies. “She would have understood.”

“We weren’t alone the entire time. If I don’t walk you home it’s really not even a date.” Dongmin argues. “I have work to do anyway; this is no where near by bedtime.”

 _“He has a very technical approach to dating._ ” Sanha notes, watching Dongmin stare out the window in a daze. _“He applies this technical approach to dating to our dates. These are actual dates to him.”_ Sanha concludes, a bit uncomfortable now. _“Maybe he’s lonely? He gets annoyed when people crash these half dates.”_

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes.” Sanha retorts. “I could have just gone home and we could have gotten coffee tomorrow or something.”

Dongmin’s head jerks upright. “Are you joking right now?”

“What kind of unfunny joke would that be? Who do you think I am? Kim Yeongcheol? Lee Dongmin?”

“That’s Lee Dongmin hyung to you.” Dongmin corrects, shoving Sanha into the pole next to the sliding doors.

“Ow!”

“There’s this study cafe near Samseon Park.” Dongmin continues, looking up as he tries to picture it. “That’s where we were going to go today. Bring your books, alright? You’ve really only got four months until the CSAT.”

“Yeah, alright, not too early though.” Sanha pleads. “Eleven?”

“Nine thirty, but I won’t beat you up unless you’re there after ten.” Dongmin compromises.

“I’ll take what I can get.” Sanha says, swinging back and forth as the train makes a stop. “For the record, it was a 10/10 date regardless.”

“Because Jinwoo hyung is your favourite?” Dongmin replies, resigned.

“No, well, Jinwoo hyung is cool, but you’re different when you’re with your friends.” Sanha answers, feeling a little self conscious as the words come out.

“Oh?” Dongmin asks, turning his head to meet Sanha’s eye for the first time. “Why?”

“Because you’re actually a three year old who _sulks_.” Sanha teases, laughing when Dongmin tries to kick him. “You _sulk_! And throw tantrums in your room! You are never allowed to call me immature again, for the record.”

“No matter how many temper tantrums I do or do not throw, I am twenty years too old to be compared to you.” Dongmin taunts.

“It was cute.” Sanha admits, voice betraying him and going quiet. “Less Lee Dongmin enemy-of-general-mankind and more Lee Dongmin maybe-one-tenth-human-kind-of.”

“Thank you?” Dongmin replies, after a couple minutes of boring holes into Sanha’s face.

“You’re welcome.” Sanha nods, breaking eye contact on his own this time.

It’s a different kind of silent the rest of the day home, broken only when Dongmin bids him goodbye, and Sanha feels a little like he’s floating as he gets back home, hugging his mom and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

“He plans where we’re going on our dates.” Sanha mulls over their subway conversation as he brushes his teeth. “Our dates that he thinks are real dates.”

Think about what Dongmin feels, had been the next step on Jinwoo’s list.

“Nope, nope, nope.” Sanha cuts that line of thought off early, smacking his head a few times and turning on the desk lamp in his room. He drowns his head in trigonometry proofs the rest of the night, stopping only when he’s too tired to think, and then drifting off to sleep.

  
**From: ??? ｜XXX-XXX-XXXX**  
good morning! rise and shine! just  
so you know! i hope you’re awake!  
because if you stand me up! you’re  
going to be in so much pain! your  
ancestors are going to feel it! ten  
generations down!

 

 

 

 

Sanha does make it to their next date, almost on time, but it’s already more than halfway through June. Once July hits his father stands up to his grandfather, for the first time since 1983 probably, and after hours of passive aggressive jabs over a game of cards they decide that Sanha and Dongmin’s dates will be put on stand still as Sanha prepares for the placement exam. It’s nice because Sanha can’t handle these two weights at once, but definitely less nice when his entire social life is more or less put on hold. Even when Sanha’s feeling stressed and wants to argue, his father holds back any opinions he has on Sanha’s potential future doing music and tells him they’ll talk about it after he’s gotten his score back.

Minhyuk is his pillar all throughout August, but two weeks into September both sets of parents sit down and tell them they’re going to have to start studying alone from now on.

“It’s not like Minhyuk’s going to tell you the answer when you forget in November.” His mom chastises when Sanha’s screaming at two in the morning one particularly stressful Thursday. “The harder you work, the faster time will pass, the sooner you’ll see each other again.”

Near the beginning, from July to the end of September and even a week in October, Sanha feels like he’s kilometers behind everyone else and rapidly trying to catch up. He goes over formulas until he knows them better than his name, works through every practice problem he can get his hands on, including some from English universities that he finds Googling keywords that Dongmin sends him. The Korean history part of the exam is definitely his weakest point, so Sanha makes sure he goes over those portions the most. He reads himself textbooks before he sleeps like they’re lullabies, he sleeps with textbooks tucked under his pillow because pride be damned and superstition reign—he’s desperate, and all the dates he especially has trouble memorising he just writes in his mother’s kohl eyeliner on different parts of his body so he’s reminded every minute of that day.

Towards the end of October he’s exhausted and his drive is slowing too—most of the pure facts he can remember, and he’s familiar with the practice problems too, so his brain starts to wander as he reviews old notes.

Why is he working this hard?

What if he still can’t do music?

What if his dad tries to register him for a business course?

Why is he working so hard for a business course?

It’s like he’s been running so hard, for so long, that now that he finally lifts his head up he realises he’s just been running in circles. It’s distracting him, when he works, when he studies, when he goes to school, when he eats, and Sanha finally figures he finally needs to deal with what’s bothering him.

“Hello?” Jinwoo answers the phone, voice sounding half basilisk half hamster.

“Hyung?” Sanha replies.

“Sanha? It’s like, what, four thirty?”

“I wanted to call before your first class.”

“Mission accomplished I guess.”

“Can I follow you today?”

“What?”

“To your classes? Can I follow you?”

“Does this mean I have to go to your classes?”

“I don’t have classes today. Study break for third years.”

“Have you considered spending your study break, I don’t know, st-”

“I’ve been studying every day like 24/7 or maybe closer to 20/7 for the past three months I feel like if I study any more I’m going to have to start forgetting my name and my parents’ birthdays to make room for more information but I just keep on getting distracted because why am I even studying like there are plenty of people are millionaires and don’t know shit but there are plenty of people who know shit but are homeless is anything in this world guaranteed what if there’s a plane crash the day of the exam and I died regretting my entire life because I spent it all studying yes I know that no planes are allowed to fly over Korea during the exam but what if one from Mongolia gets lost or something I-”

“Sanha, Sanha, it’s four.”

“Four thirty.”

“Just tell your parents okay?” Jinwoo sighs, conceding after a few moments of silence. “I’ll meet you outside my building. Nine thirty. Can you find your way?”

“I’ll manage.” Sanha nods furiously, even though Jinwoo can’t see him, jittery. He should probably eat breakfast at this point, since he’s got nearly five hours to kill, but his stomach feels a little tight so he drinks a few cartons of banana milk instead and heads out early, just so he doesn’t run into his parents.

Remembering Jinwoo’s request, he leaves a note for his mom saying he went to the library because he was starting to see ghosts in his room.

Sanha doesn’t have much to do once he’s outside, so he tries to walk to the station slowly, but muscle memory takes over two minutes into the menial task and he’s walking at a regular pace again, on the train, and then outside Sungkyunkwan’s campus at five in the morning.

Luckily, Starbucks is open, so Sanha orders a hot chocolate and watches episodes Happy Together that he missed until it’s nine twenty and Sanha decides to head out. Staring at a screen after months of looking at books makes his eyes a little sore, and Yoo Jaesuk and Park Myungsoo had started morphing into one by the end there. He arrives at the narrow building, familiar even though he had only been here once before, and spends a long time off to the side of the front entrance, staring up the wall. He wouldn’t mind living here.

“Sanha?” The man hears, and sees two figures off to the right. It must have been Moonbin who said his name.

“That’s not funny anymore.” He hears Dongmin start, refusing to turn in his direction, and Sanha is never too tired for a jump scare so he starts tip-toeing over, exchanging a wink with Moonbin. “It’s been thirty times and this joke doesn’t even have a punch-”

“Hyung!” Sanha screeches, as high as his voice will go, right behind Dongmin’s left ear, and Dongmin’s left forearm collides with Sanha’s face but it’s completely worth it because Dongmin screams like a _child_.

“Fuck!” Dongmin shouts, spinning so rapidly that the subsequent momentum of his book bag and the fear send him toppling over. Sanha’s too busy cackling, already sprawled on the concrete, to judge. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I did try to warn you.” Moonbin laughs, helping Sanha up. “At least you probably won’t fall asleep in class now.”

“What are you doing here?” Dongmin groans, getting up and brushing his pants off. “Don’t you have school?”

“Study break.”

“And you’re not studying because?”

“I’ve been studying every day like 24/7 or maybe closer to 20/7 for the past three months I feel like if I study any more I’m going to have to start forgetting my name and my parents’ birthdays to make room for more information but I just keep on getting distracted because why am I even studying like there are plenty of people are millionaires and don’t know shit but there are plenty of people who know shit but are homeless is anything in this world guaranteed what if there’s a plane crash the day of the exam and I died regretting my entire-”

“Sanha! You actually got here. You’re a part of campus already.” Jinwoo calls, running over from the door.

“What are you doing here?” Dongmin asks.

“In front of the building? The building that we both live inside? And leave for class every day?” Jinwoo answers, laughing.

“I guess hyung isn’t awake yet still.” Sanha laughs. “You must not be a morning person. I’m following Jinwoo hyung around today because I can’t decide if I’m really going to send my scores here.”

“You should do it!” Moonbin encourages. “I have to head to class now, but I hope you like what you see!”

“I’m normally a morning person.” Dongmin sighs, ruffling Sanha’s hair before he walks off in the opposite direction. “Today’s already been so long. Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“My class doesn’t start until ten.” Jinwoo yawns. “You up for coffee?”

“It’s never too early for hot chocolate.” Sanha agrees, trailing after Jinwoo.

He’s jittery all day, having drank two banana milks and hot chocolates before the day’s even really begun, but it keeps him awake through all of Jinwoo’s boring theory and history classes, feeling a little small in his seat watching Jinwoo scrawl notes down in a language that doesn’t even look like Korean. Sanha feels a little dumb though, once they’re in the fine arts building and Jinwoo’s warming up for his choir course.

From the moment their instructor lets out her first note for them to tune to, gradually climbing up and down the C scale, Sanha is shaking in his seat with how much he wants to jump up on stage and join them. He wants to sing, to tune, to rehearse. For the first time that days his arms aren’t straining at random intervals, riding four different sugar highs. There are no thoughts about how angry his mom is going to be when he gets home and she realises he doesn’t have his book bag, no thoughts about the stacks of textbooks and circle of trash developing around his desk chair that await him once he’s back, no thoughts of all the other people trying to control his life.

Sanha wants to sink through his chair, into the ground, until he’s stuck here.

Jinwoo has a part time job as a research assistant for one of the professors in the composition department, and they’re trying to work out whether it’d be appropriate for Sanha to follow him there when Dongmin shows up again, looking a little more alive than he did this morning, and declares that he’s taking Sanha to dinner.

“What do you want to eat?” Dongmin asks, slowing his pace as they pass some shops on the south side of campus.

“Nothing special, I haven’t eaten all day.” Sanha shrugs. “It’s kind of reaching that point where if you pointed to a bush I’d just roll my sleeves up and start gnawing.”

“That’s lovely. What about chicken?” Dongmin replies, looking at Sanha for a response, and the latter figures this is as good time as any to do his homework.

“Chicken. Lovely. Chicken chicken chicken.” Sanha chants in response, satisfied when he can see Dongmin fighting a grin.

“This way then.” Dongmin redirects them, a hand coming up near the back of Sanha’s nest to spin them around, and resting on his shoulder after they start heading the right way.

 _“What the fuck?!”_ Sanha’s brain is going haywire, because yeah they’ve touched before, and he’s pretty sure their parents have bathed them together some time before the age of five, but this is uncharted territories. Untoured lands. Dongmin may as well pull a fucking carpet out of his pocket and jet them off the explore stars the way things are going.

“There’s a few chains near the rest of the restaurants but my favourite is this Indian place that makes spicy wings.” Dongmin explains, all the words flying over Sanha’s head.

_“I don’t know what he’s thinking. How am I supposed to know what he’s thinking? Is he even thinking?! Isn’t his hand uncomfortable?! Is he too lazy to carry his own hand?! Why do I have to carry his hand?! What am I, his pack mule?!”_

“So what you’re saying is that you’re a fucking hipster.” Sanha concludes; Dongmin tightens his grip on Sanha’s shoulder threateningly and Sanha starts swatting at Dongmin’s face, simultaneously hoping that he’ll keep his hand there and move it.

He doesn’t move the hand.

“Good food is good food.” Dongmin defends himself, moving closer to Sanha when they pass a crowd of students on the sidewalk going the other way.

_“There is no god. Or too many god’s.”_

“You really look tired though.” Dongmin notes. “If you want to head back early feel free.”

“It’s against my religion to turn down free food.” Sanha replies, ten times more self conscious when he notices that Dongmin doesn’t look too displeased.

_“He likes spending time with me. He could be probably be studying right now. He’s thinking…”_

“Here we are.” Dongmin stops once they arrive at the entrance, pinching Sanha’s shoulder when the younger doesn’t stop immediately.

“Your timing is impeccable.” Sanha nods, climbing up the stairs two at a time. “I was just about to consider turning into a vampire so I wouldn’t have to wait for food and could just feast on the pedestrians.”

He’s a little worried that dinner will be awkward if he doesn’t get ahold of himself, but Dongmin is genuinely hungry and the savoury scent wafting from the kitchen turns Sanha’s stomach into an audible, gurgling mess so they order as soon as the waiter comes over with tea and their food is out relatively soon. Sanha shoves his face so full he blacks out for the first half of his dinner, just biting, licking and chewing.

“I feel like all we do is eat.” Sanha notes, counting how many bones Dongmin has stacked up near his plate to see if he can get away with eating another wing.

“Well you have a habit of storming off. I need something to keep you tied to the table—it’s food or a leash. And if you touch a single piece of meat left on this plate, I will stab with with a fork.”

“Fine.” Sanha sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Take your time, this is my last breath of fresh air in a while. My dad’s probably going to leash me to my desk once he finds out where I’ve been all day.”

They end up ordering more wings.

 

 

 

 

Sanha wakes up on November 18th in a panic, limbs launching off in different direction as soon as his alarm goes off. He checks it, five times, and runs to the kitchen to check the microwave clock too, before he’s assured that he’s not running late and goes to change into his uniform. Sanha can bike to his testing site in five minutes and make the walk in under twenty, but he figures he should take advantage of the extra bus shuttles running and grabs his t-card on his way out the door, matcha bread in hand. He’s got over an hour until the exam starts, but better early than an utter failure and useless piece of shit.

He makes sure to throw the plastic bag the bread is in away in a trash can outside the building, and checks every pocket on him ten times to make sure they’re all empty. He heads to the restroom twice, the first to make sure his bladder is drained, and the second to make sure his boxers don’t have any pockets that he’s missed all these years. Minhyuk gets there around fifteen minutes later, and they sit on the ground in stony silence, feeling the weight of the remaining 60 years they have sitting on their shoulders.

“As long as it’s over 400 I’ll take it.” Sanha pleads, gaze shifting between a wig-shaped cloud, a lamp post, and the concrete they’re seated on.

“What if we just died right now.” Minhyuk replies. “Like, not suicide, but like, aliens or some shit.”

“My last meal was rice soup.” Sanha replies, stony. “I am overflowing with regret. Do you think aliens eat pork belly?”

“Even if you fall asleep halfway through the exam, you can move into my future couch.” Minhyuk promises, his heading falling onto Sanha’s shoulder.

“Same.” Sanha agrees.

Somehow that cheers him up more than anything else.

“Last names Gang to Dong, please line up outside! We will be seating last names Gang to Dong.”

The next eight hours are a repressed nightmare.

Sanha exits the exam room with his ears ringing, a little light headed, feeling a little ghostly as he trails behind another male student with the last name “Yoo” out of the building. He thought it’d be dark, because he’d forgotten how to straight think, but despite the fact it’s winter already there’s still some remnants of midway warmth left in the sky. There’s an electrical box off to the side of the entrance, one that looks pretty comfortable, so Sanha lets his eyes adjust while he sits there, unmoving even as the cold seeps through his school trousers and straight into the bones in his ass.

“Yoon Sanha! Yoon Sanha! Yoon Sanha!” He hears off to the distance, and turns to see all three of his brothers chanting. They’re waving fans around, but once they’re even closer Sanha can see it’s actually his baby photos, taped onto rice paddles. Lovely.

“Who is Yoon Sanha?” He moans, planting his feet onto the electric box and hiding his face behind his knees. “My name is Lee Eunhyuk. Leave me alone.”

“Yoon Sanha! Yoon Sanha! Yoon Sanha!” They continue until he’s within their arm spans, and then he’s being hugged.

“You’re half a man now.” Youngha laughs, spinning him around before passing him over to the rest of his family.

“How does it feel to be done?” His mom asks, taking her right hand out of it’s mitten to feel his cheek. “Your cheek is all dry, the air in there must have been bad. I should file a complaint.”

“I’m done.” Sanha repeats, realising for the first time that it’s behind him. “Mom, I’m done.” His voice breaks halfway through, and he buries his face in her shoulder before they can make fun of his tears.

“My baby’s all grown up.” She sighs patting on the head a few times, not saying anything when he wipes his face on her jacket hood before letting her go.

“Congrats.” Dongmin says, cutting in front of his parents, flushing when they just laugh in response.

“Thanks hyung.” Sanha sighs, suddenly exhausted, and pulling Dongmin into a hug before he can feel weird about the fact this is the first time he’s hugging his fiance. Dongmin is warm, hands and neck not cold despite being exposed to the chill, and Sanha decides this is existing as Lee Dongmin perk number 63.

 

 

 

 

Sanha starts going out more after the exam is over and he’s hibernated for three days—one of those a school day his parents didn’t have the heart to force him out of bed for. His life is more or less on standstill until the scores come back, and he spends the time until then turning in just enough course work to avoid detention and ditching hakwon. The two weeks pass in a flash and soon he’s in the school library, sharing a seat with Minhyuk, doing a best of 69 game of rock paper scissors to decide who has to check their score first.

“Are either of you even keeping track?” Yoojung asks, the next seat over. She had checked her score when they were on around 20-something and was waiting so they could compare.

“It’s 35 to 42.”

“It’s 43 to 39.”

“This is ridiculous.” Yoojung cries, slamming both of their hands into the table with her own. “Sudden death. Loser logs in first.”

“Fine.” They both grumble, and take a few seconds to glare, before Sanha throws out a paper and Minhyuk counters with scissors.”

“Both of you are terrible.” Sanha whines, reluctantly typing his ID number and password in. He almost jumps out of the chair while the page buffers, held in black only by Minhyuks grip on his waist, but he covers his eyes once the web page is done loading.

“Oh my god just do it!” Minhyuk cries, trying to push Sanha’s eyes down, but Sanha just hides his head between his legs instead.

“I can’t believe I know you two.” Yoojung groans, shoving between them to work the mouse and bring up Sanha’s results.

“Look!” Minhyuk demands, putting Sanha in a headlock and forcing his face near the screen. Self preservation forces Sanha’s eyes open, and his brain processes the numbers before he can tell his brain to turn off.

435

It’s slightly higher than Minhyuk’s and considerably less than Yoojung’s, but all of them were comfortably over 400 and Sanha ends up rolling on the ground, trying to contain his glee. The librarian lets them off with a warning when she realises what they’re celebrating, but Sanha can’t even muster the decency to pretend to be sorry.

“Do you remember what the cutoff for Seungkyunkwan is?” Yoojung asks, and Sanha would honestly prefer it if she had just sucker punched him with her fist.

“Shit, no, shit shit shit.” Sanha was lulled into a false sense of security by his father’s ceasefire the past few months, but the weight of where this score can take him hits him again. If his score was released to him already, that means the universities have all received them too, and he’ll be getting a second round of results within the next week.

“There’s no way it was higher than 435.” Minhyuk reassures him, not understanding why Sanha’s entire person has suddenly gone rigid after his showy celebration earlier. “On the bright side, if you didn’t make the cutoff then there’s no way I did.”

“I’m sure we both got in.” Sanha laughs soullessly, hand clinging tightly to Minhyuk’s forearm. It’s silent for a few moments while Yoojung and Minhyuk stare at him, concerned. Sanha laughs again to try and quell their concern.

“You’re freaking me out.” Yoojung concludes, shoveling her stuff off the table and into her book bag. “Congrats. I’m going to head out now.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Minhyuk asks one last time, both of them clearing their stuff out to head home as well.

“I’m fine.” Sanha nods, knocking his shoulder into Minhyuk’s as he gets up from his seat. “Just relieved I won’t have to move into your coach after graduation after all.”

Sanha turns on email notifications for his phone and ends up checking his email every ten minutes anyway, sometimes refreshing the page and catching new mail before the notification flashes across the screen. He does this every day for ten days, going to school and hakwon and meeting people like an out of body experience the whole time, until 10:24pm the following Thursday, when a new message loads and it’s finally from the right sender. He would recognise the Seongkyunkwan University logo from that preview from two kilometers away, in the dark, standing on his head, and completely wasted.

It’s an acceptance letter.

Sanha can’t muster the peace it would take him to feel happy, and collapses on his bed for a moment to make a decision.

He listens to the soft thud of slippered feet against kitchen tile—his mother and father bustling about with the occasional clang of metal chopsticks and thud of a knife on wood.

He stares at the remnants of his desk in a corner of his room, too stacked full with notes and garbage and books and dirty laundry to be useful in any capacity.

He closes his eyes and remembers standing in an auditorium, waiting for Jinwoo to finish class, running around on the stage, and looking even at the rows of empty seats with a sense of wonder.

Sanha fills out the acceptance form on his phone. It takes a while, but if he has to go out and face his parents, he might chicken out. It’s annoying long, lines and lines of questions about his name and birthday and citizen ID number and address and medical history, and by the team he’s done his fingers are trembling and he misses the submit button twice before he’s finally done.

“Hyung? can I sleep over tonight?”

 

 

 

 

“I feel like your entire high school experience was a lot more dramatic than mine.” Jinwoo comments. “In fact, I feel like your last semester of high school was more dramatic than my entire public education experience.”

“I’m a very dramatic person.” Sanha mutters defensively. “It runs in my blood.”

“Does it really?”

“Quiet. That’s not important.”

“Okay.” Jinwoo nods. “But maybe we should talk this out.”

They’re sitting in Jinwoo and Myungjun’s living room, leaning against the couch, and staring at the furniture while Knowing Brothers plays on Jinwoo’s laptop screen. Jinwoo had met Sanha in the lobby, the front desk clerk halfway recognising the gangly teenager at this point, and Jinwoo had taken the silence all the way up the elevator, into his room, and all while Sanha was taking a shower.

“I got accepted into Sungkyunkwan.” Sanha starts.

“Hey! That’s-”

“I think my dad might disown me.” Sanha finishes.

“Ah.” Jinwoo sighs. “Have you told the guy?”

“No, but I’ve brought it up.”

“Does he hate this school?”

“I want to study music.” Sanha explains. “We used to fight about it a lot, all through first and second year. Third year we just got kind of tired and stopped talking for a bit and then he said he wanted to wait until after the CSAT to talk. But now I have my score and I have the first round of applications back and I submitted the enrollment form before he could talk me out of it.”

“How bad were the fights?” Jinwoo asks, hand coming up to pat Sanha’s shoulder.

“Really bad, like he would literally drag me out of the house bad.” Sanha starts. “At first I think he thought I would apologise and come crying back, but I was too pissed and I would just end up staying at a friend’s house. After the fourth or fifth time of being dragged out I just starting leaving on my own after we ran out of things to argue about and just started insulting each other.”

“What kind of stuff did you argue about?”

“It was always just the music thing. Why I couldn’t just be more mature, why I was so selfish, why I was dumb enough to want to sing even when someone who looked like Dongmin was studying history. How he didn’t work so hard to raise this kind of kid, how he didn’t pay for me schooling for me to turn out like this, the usual.” Sanha sighs. He was worried he was going to cry or get angry again, but it still feels like he’s watching his life play out for someone else right now.

“You don’t, believe any of that do you?”

“Of course not.” Sanha chuckles dryly. “He’s just angry and wants me to feel bad about myself so I’ll listen to him. That shit stopped working on me when I was nine. As for the face thing, I’m adorable and people like me and it’s advantageous to be in everyone’s league. I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Is your dad fond of Dongmin then?” Jinwoo asks, probably encouraged to pry by the fact Sanha can laugh again. “Are they close?”

“Most men…” Sanha starts, trying to phrase this correctly. “Most men aren’t emotionally mature enough to have positive feelings about Lee Dongmin.”

“Well you’re not wrong.” Jinwoo laughs, collapsing on Sanha’s thigh.

“What the hell hyung?” Sanha whines, shaking his leg but not pushing Jinwoo fully off. “I’m the one you’re supposed to be comforting. Why am I the only one who does any heavy lifting around here?”

“I’m old and rusting and you called me past my bedtime.” Jinwoo croaks, swatting at Sanha’s neck. “Stop moving around and tell me about kids these days. We can’t talk about your dramatic high school life without talking about your fiance.”

“It’s fine. Nothing much to report. I haven’t seen him as much since the term’s ending.” Sanha shrugs, hoping Jinwoo is the suspicious sort.

“Then tell me about earlier.”

“Earlier?”

“You two grew up together didn’t you?” Jinwoo asks. “Any blackmail material on five year old Lee?”

“I wasn’t joking when I saw we weren’t close.” Sanha replies, trying to think. “I just saw him sitting on the other side of the table whenever our families would have dinner together. We went to the same high school but didn’t join any of the same clubs.”

“You two used to live close together right?”

“Yeah, his parents moved to Seoul so he could go to high school here. They back down south as soon as he graduated.”

“And you guys never hung out? Even when you were neighbours.”

“I saw him on the bus sometimes.” Sanha admits. “But I never talked, and I also only took the bus when it was raining.”

“I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.” Jinwoo sighs. “Who would have thought?”

“I do remember that our bus driver liked him though.” Sanha recalls. “He was a total jackass and couldn’t drive for shit and would bring to a screeching halt every time he needed to pick someone up and zoom off again before they had time to even swipe their T-card. The only two people he gave time to sit down were people were elderly and people were Lee Dongmin.”

“And I no longer feel sorry for him anymore.”

“Benefit of existing as Lee Dongmin 102.” Sanha declares.

“So you said you two weren’t close,” Jinwoo explains, “but don’t you kind of hate him a little?”

“Hate?” Sanha exclaims, surprised. “Why would I hate him? Aren’t you his friend? Have I joined some kind of conspiracy? Are you going to hold me ransom?”

“No, calm down, I’m just asking.”

“Why would I hate him?”

“Because it sounds like your parents would compare you guys, growing up. Isn’t that the worst?”

“I mean… I maybe hated him a little before.” Sanha reasons.

“I was right!”

“It wasn’t because of that!” Sanha argues. “It wasn’t because he was good at things or whatever, but it was the goddam smile.”

“Smile?”

“He was a fucking masochist.” Sanha grumbles. “When he was angry he would smile, when he was annoyed he was smile, when he was sad he would smile, when his parents were yelling at him about skipping hakwon he would smile. It’s like he was one of those cardboard cutouts outside Nature Republic. Impossible to read, because he was too busy trying to look good.”

“I guess I’ve never really seen that side of him.” Jinwoo shrugs.

“He probably grew out of it after leaving home.” Sanha shrugs.

“That’s one explanation.” Jinwoo agrees. “But no jealousy?”

“It was annoying, but there’s no need to hate him for it.” Sanha shrugs. “Maybe a little, at first, but I’m pretty awesome too. I’m cute and funny and tall and I can play the guitar and I know how to talk to people. I am ten times better than Lee Dongmin on a good day.”

“And humble.” Jinwoo jokes, but he’s smiling and his tone doesn’t sound accusatory.

“If we’re walking about Dongmin hyung you have to pull your weight too.” Sanha retorts. “What’s he like on campus? Swarms of fans?”

“Not really, though a lot of people do notice him.” Jinwoo reasons.

“Hey, don’t sugar coat it for me now, I’m about to find out for myself next year.”

“There really isn’t anything to sugar coat.” Jinwoo shrugs. “He has a lot of acquaintances but no fan club or anything. We aren’t in a manhwa.”

“Has he dated on campus before?” Sanha presses, tackling Jinwoo when the hyung tries to shrink out of his grasp. “Hyung! I just poured out my heart to you! You can’t convince me to try and see Dongmin hyung as a man and then not tell me what I’m getting myself into!”

“I kind of feel like a traitor being within the vicinity of you while having this conversation. But I’m not sure to who.”

“Do you have information about a North Korean spy?” Sanha asks, voice suddenly serious, just like all commercials he sees before old movies.

“No.”

“Then tell me everything you know about Dongmin hyung’s love life instead.”

“There… he’s been on a couple of blind dates? I can’t remember any of their names, and I would honestly be surprised if he did. Then again he’s Dongmin.”

“Go on.” Sanha demands, when Jinwoo catches sight of the frown forming on his face. “I’m the one who asked! I can take it!”

“He did mention… we would egg him on about seeing people, about going out more. He went clubbing with us and everything, but never really showed interest in anyone. But first year, last year, he mentioned someone catching his eye.” Jinwoo forces the words out, and then immediately starts pinching Sanha’s cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not a bad person!”

“I’m not!”

“You were the one who asked!”

“I already said that!”

“Stop doing that with your face! I’m not a bad person!”

“I’m not doing anything with my face.” Sanha pouts, glaring at the messenger. “Tell me more.”

“There’s nothing more to tell!”

“Did he make any new friends his first year?”

“All you do first year is make friends and spend money on coffee.” Jinwoo explains. “The three of us that you’ve met all met Dongmin his first year.”

“This is exhausting.” Sanha declares, sitting up onto the couch he was using as a backrest and laying across the whole thing amidst Jinwoo’s protests. He’s briefly reminded of how Dongmin would say the same thing, at the beginning of any of their conversations. “Aren’t you guys his friends? How can you possibly not know who he’s interested in?”

“Well we know who he’s interested in now.” Jinwoo levels, and Sanha fixes his gaze on a green floor lamp to avoid Jinwoo’s gaze.

“We should watch a movie.” Sanha declares, sitting up once again. “Have you watched Mr. Bean yet?”

“No, I have not.”

“That’s a shame.” Sanha shakes his head. “We will remedy that immediately.”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“I mean so do I. We are at the cusp of our youth. I’m going to be tied down next year. We need to take advantage of our youth.”

“I have no youth left.” Jinwoo groans, getting up to get his laptop while protesting. “I’m going to fall asleep halfway through. What time is it?”

“The time is young.” Sanha declares, standing up as well. “And I need water. We should buy food. That means you should buy me food.”

“There’s a takeout flier lying around.” Jinwoo shrugs. “Myungjun hyung was throwing them around the living room in a crazed fit the other day. Let’s just go with whatever you find first.”

Speak of the devil and

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun roars, throwing their door open hard enough that Sanha can hear the wall’s paint job crack when the door knob makes contact with it. “Answer your fucking phone you dumb ass!”

“What?!” Jinwoo roars back, spinning around to face his roommate and seeing his roommate staring at Sanha intead.

“Is this an illusion? A mirage? Have I finally lost it?” Myungjun asks, voice suddenly hoarse, as he approaches Sanha carefully.

“Is he talking about me?” Sanha asks, turning to Jinwoo as if he’s capable of explaining Myungjun.

“Jinwoo hyung!” Moonbin roars before Jinwoo can voice this, slamming on the door frame since he can’t slam the door open. “Answer your god dam phone! Why- is that Sanha?”

“Do I need to to introduce myself again?” Sanha protests as Myungjun grabs his hand, expression strange. “Nice to meet you. Please take care of me.”

“Where, um, are you okay?” Moonbin asks, Myungjun still at a loss for words, leaning by he door frame and looking back into the hallway every few seconds.

“I’m fine, I was looking for a jjajangmyeon takeout flier.” Sanha shrugs. “Are you guys okay though? You look like you’ve been chased by a gang of loan sharks.”

“So, funny story-”

“Not done, I think I could really go somewhere with this.” Sanha interrupts. “Like you were being chased by a flock of parakeets. Like you were being chased-”

“Jinwoo hyung!” Dongmin roars, crashing into Moonbin and sending him crashing into the ground. “Pick up your phone!”

“The pentagram’s complete!” Sanha announces, still not sure what’s going on, but then Dongmin shifts his gaze and Sanha realises he looks like he could rip someone open with his bare hands.

“Yoon Sanha.” Dongmin chuckles, eerily. “Yoon Sanha. Where the fuck have you been?”

“Here?” Sanha squeaks, sitting down on the couch. “And on the floor, and to the bathroom once, but mostly just here. Lots of here. A few there’s. Around.” Sanha rambles on.

“We should leave them alone.” Myungjun whispers, standing up and going over to grab Jinwoo. Jinwoo protests at first, hissing about owning land as Moonbin and Myungjun try and pull him out of the room by his arms, but Dongmin lands a kick on his backside that finally sends all three tumbling back out the door.

“Yoon Sanha.” Dongmin repeats, walking over from the door. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“We’ve been over this.” Sanha sighs, flinching when Dongmin doesn’t stop at the the coffee table and is soon hovering directly over Sanha. “But if you need a refresher that’s fine?”

“Yoon Sanha.” Dongmin repeats, bringing his arms up, and Sanha is expecting to put all the hapkido the youngest of four brothers picked up through the natural passage of time, but he isn’t expecting Dongmin’s grip to be soft, touch light; Sanha’s isn’t expecting a hug. “You are exhausting.”

“I think I may know what you mean.” Sanha replies, turning his face so his cheek is against Dongmin’s belly and his voice projects enough to be heard.

“No, you probably don’t.” Dongmin sighs. “Have you checked your phone?” He asks before Sanha can protest.

 

 

**43 Missed Calls**

  
**119 Missed texts**

 

  
“Mom!” Sanha screams into Dongmin’s phone, his own having run out of battery after loading all of his missed calls and messages. “I ‘run away from home’ at least once a week! I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this! Please tell me you didn’t call the police?”

“But you’re always at Minhyuk’s hyung you dumb shit!” She shrieks right back, making Sanha wince even when the audio volume is turned all the way down. “But he didn’t know where you were! And your duffel bag was missing!”

“Why is me being responsible a cause for concern!” Sanha shrieks. “I’m cultivating a closet at Minhyuk’s house! I don’t take anything with me because I don’t need to!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?!”

“Stop avoiding the question! Did you call the police?!”

“I’m the one who stopped your bat shit crazy husband from calling the police!” She yells, and Sanha throws Dongmin a judging look and gets a shoe thrown at him for his troubles.

“Stop yelling at your mom you shit, do you know how worried we all were?!” His father roars, uncharacteristically emotional, stealing the phone from his mom. “How old are you to still be running away from home?!”

“How old are you to be kicking your own son out of the house?!”

“Old enough to own my own house!”

“Old enough to own my own t-pass!”

“What were you thinking?!”

“Have you forgotten! You’re the one who said I don’t know how to think!”

“Where is all this attitude coming from! Aren’t you sorry at all?!”

“Why is everyone making this such a big deal?!” Sanha shrieks. “I am almost never at home to begin with!”

“Honey, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” His mother steals the phone back, voice still loud but without the nervous edge it had earlier. “Did you and your father fight before I got home? We were all confused okay, normally we know when you go over to Minhyuk’s.”

“We didn’t fight!” His father yells in the back, and Sanha can hear the distinct sound of a slap afterwords. He was always a mama’s boy.

“Sanha, what’s wrong. Even if you’re scared, you need to communicate with us.” She continues, cuing Dongmin to come over from where he’d been pacing in circles around the floor lamp to stand by Sanha, waiting.

“I just needed fresh air.”

“Bullshit.”

“I was hungry?”

“Sanha, just spit it out.”

“There was a sudden infestation of raccoo- Okay! Okay! Stop it stop it I’ll say it!” Sanha shrieks, his attempt to adapt the plot of ‘Snakes on a Plane’ interrupted by Dongmin impatiently jabbing fingers into his sides. “I got my acceptance into Sungkyunkwan okay! And I knew dad would be mad and would talk me out of it and threaten to disown me again so I enrolled already and I don’t care if you disown okay I’ve already accepted!” Sanha shrieks.

“That’s it?” Dongmin blurts out in response, face morphing strangely, and upon closer inspection Sanha recognises the expression. It’s somewhat patronising, somewhat nervous, like he’s been plotting away Sanha’s life behind his back again. It’s the same expression they had when they went to eat barbeque.

“What aren’t you telling me.” Sanha hisses, bringing his phone down from his ear to jab Dongmin back.

“Nothing.”

“Dongmin hyung?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hyung!”

“You should hear it from your dad.” Dongmin confesses, forcing the phone back to Sanha’s ear with both hands.

“Sanha? You still there?” His mom is asking on the other end.

“Yeah, I’m here. What aren’t you telling me?” Sanha replies, grabbing Dongmin’s wrist when he looks like he’s going to lock himself in the bathroom.

“Has Dongminnie not told you yet?”

“He said I should hear it from dad.”

“You should really hear it from Dongmin.” His father yells again.

“I don’t know what kinky game of telephone you guys conjured up but I’m not playing! Someone just fucking tell me!”

“We’ll support you at Sungkyunkwan!” His father yells again.

Sanha doesn’t know what to say.

“The Lee brat went and bartered with you grandfather. He said he’d go through with the wedding, no divorces or anything, if we let you pick your own university.” His father continues.

“Sanha, we could have just had this conversation like regular people.” His mother nags. “You don’t have to run away anymore, okay?”

“Don’t come running back home when you’re flat ass broke though; that’s not my problem.”

“Do you think you’re going to stay at Dongmin’s friend’s house for the rest of tonight?”

“You better be at school tomorrow; if you cut one more hakwon class I’m making you pay the tution!”

“Hey.” Sanha interrupts, ending the call. It takes thirty seconds for Dongmin to look up and realise Sanha’s trying to hand his phone back. He tries to grab it with his right hand, but Sanha’s still gripping it tightly, and ends up taking it back with his left hand.

Then it’s silent again.

 _“Think about what he’s thinking. Once that gets easier try thinking about what he’s feeling, then what he wants.”_ Sanha recalls. _“What does he want?_ ”

The Lee Dongmin that held his hand at McDonalds.

The Lee Dongmin that went to the same high school, who’s mom would bring Sanha over notes on the weekends for courses he had already taken, the one who Sanha regarded as more robot than human.

The Lee Dongmin that sulks when other people tag along on their dates; the Lee Dongmin that likes being fed but will cover it up with meaningless protests and punch you afterward to try and throw you off; the Lee Dongmin that researches were to take him online, that doesn’t order seafood when they go out to eat even if it’ll keep Sanha from stealing his food, that doesn’t take people home when he goes clubbing.

“Existing as Lee Dongmin perk number…”

“You’re still keeping that list?” Dongmin replies, not sure what to make of Sanha’s burst of energy.

“This one’s number sixty nine.” Sanha nods, continuing despite the disgusted look on Dongmin’s face. “Let’s get married.”

Neither of them speak after, faces growing increasingly red.

“Is… married codeword for something?” Dongmin replies, suspicious and blushing, skeptical and scared to hope.

“I’m glad I met you, hyung.” Sanha declares, deciding the pain in his left knee is worth it when Dongmin face completely freaks out as he gets down on one knee. “Even if you’re a dumb tsundere with no sense of humor. But you’re good at things too, like sweeping floors. And making ramen.”

“Sanha-”

“This isn’t really because you joined the conspire-Sanha’s-future-without-him-clan thought it may seem like it is, because I’m actually really not fond of all the people in my life meeting and deciding things without me.” Sanha continues. “But I’m glad I met you. I like spending time with you. I like you. Let’s get married—until we can’t stand each other this time, instead of until my grandpa dies.”


	2. First Year

Sanha’s been looking forward to the first day of Winter break since the school year started.

Every time he had woken up a literal puddle between his sheets and blanket, feeling like he was peeling skin trying to get out of bed. Every time he had stayed up late finishing assignments last minute, a throbbing in his head as he stared at his textbooks and his eyeballs felt like they were on fire. Every time he had hunched over during Physics, having not eaten since lunch the previous day since he had spent dinner studying and breakfast catching up on sleep.

He was going to sleep in until noon, toasty in bed, with the blinds closed.

He was going to eat a five course meal the first day of break.

He was going to see a movie with Minhyuk, something dumb and violent with lots of explosions, and he was going to get enough popcorn for him to both throw around dramatically and eat.

Naturally, his mother wakes him up as seven so he can carry bags as she and an auntie shop.

“This is a family bonding experience.” She explains, handing him some gift packaged ginseng as they walk out of an herbal medicine shop. “We won’t get time to hang out next year. You’ll be busy preparing for the national exam, studying.”

“In what way is this bonding?” He mutters, following behind his mom and the auntie, huddling into the scarf around his neck since he hadn’t been given enough time to check the weather before they left.

“Oh look! A record store!” His mother cries, pointing to a small shop on the right.

And so it goes.

They end up buying lunch at a small lunch restaurant, the rest of the shop littered with Taxi drivers and retail employees, Sanha trying to figure out how he can worm his way out of this while absorbing as much of the restaurants heating as possible.

“So where do you want to head next?” His mother asks, setting down her spoon.

“Home.” Sanha replies immediately, and she just glares in response.

“I hear there’s a new home wares shop open in Myeongdong.” The auntie replies, pulling out her phone. “They carry a lot of Australian brands.”

Myeongdong? Oh hell no.

“I’m actually still hungry.” Sanha tries, opening the menu pamphlet next to him. “Can I get some stir fried pork too?”

“You’ve eaten enough.” His mom replies, standing up with her purse. “I haven’t had a chance to go to Myeongdong in a while. Maybe we-”

“Dongmin hyung!” Sanha shrieks, spotting a familiar face outside the window. It’s loud enough that a few heads in the restaurant turn, but not loud enough to penetrate glass and reach the student walking down the street.

“Sanha! Keep it-”

“Mom! You know how important bonding is right?” Sanha asks, already climbing out of his seat and nearly out the door. “When am I going to see Dongmin hyung again? I’ll see you at home!”

 

 

  
Dongmin’s first expectation for his Saturday involves lounging in bed past any socially acceptable lunch hour, never changing out of his pajamas, and ordering jjajangmyeon at an awkward hour right before dinner and eat the noodles laying down on his couch. Maybe sip some tea when he’s done, and watch the snow fall out the window. Take a nap after the meal, and wake up a few hours past dinner to eat again.

Dongmin’s second expectation for his Saturday involves waking up before noon, peeling his body off his mattress and putting on denim that will get stiff in the snow and a nice shirt that won’t do anything insulate from the cold wind, and blearily trek through the streets of Seoul to go to a sogetting he doesn’t want to attend with people he doesn’t know because social convention and first year problems. Then he was going to meet people, defend his number with his life, not think about the cute 18 year old back home who just got his braces off, and then trek back home in a shit mood.

Dongmin’s actual Saturday does involve waking up before noon, getting dressed, and leaving the house, but mostly involves a tall, Sanha-shaped projectile that comes hurtling at him right before he hits Changgyeonggoong Road. The younger almost sends both of them right into traffic, but Dongmin splurged on loafers with traction last winter so they manage to stay on the slick pavement—barely.

“Hyung!” Sanha greets, grinning, like something out of a dream.

He’s wearing their physical education uniform, probably freezing through the polyester, and his fingers and face are freshly frost bitten and holly red. He’s smiling, more so than when Dongmin usually sees him, like he’s missed them, and Dongmin moves on from that train of thought lest he end up hoping again. Snow is still falling, softly but in large flakes, and they float down to adorn Sanha’s bed head in a way that has Dongmin mesmerised. He wants to brush the snow flowers out, wants to cup Sanha’s jaw, wants to see the wind brushed flush of red up close, wants to

Sanha ends up leading them, shaking through his sweats, and Dongmin follows with the urge to take Sanha’s hands into his own pockets at his fingertips. They end up at a comic book store, one of the ones where you can’t see the walls and can buy instant noodles and tea eggs to munch on in between volumes, and Dongmin tries to act petulant but he’s happier than he has been in a while, watching Sanha flutter about the store, and end up with a stack of books he can barely carry to the sofa Dongmin’s sat in.

“You can’t possibly read all those before closing.” Dongmin says, just so he can feel like they’re both here.

“Watch me.” Sanha retorts, immediately grabbing the first book in the stack.

He falls asleep not even two hours later, limbs lethargic and brain foggy from the indoor heating, head tucked into Dongmin’s shoulder like it pays rent there.

Dongmin is 20 years old.

Dongmin is a legal adult now.

Dongmin is at least five years away from an age where dating someone two years younger is considered negligible.

Dongmin is too old to succumb to youthful fancies, to schoolboy crushes, to things that don’t make sense, and so he doesn’t turn his head. He doesn’t run his hand through Sanha’s hair.

He doesn’t think about wanting to carry Sanha off the couch, back to their home, to tuck him into their bed, and to fall asleep next to him. They’re in public and there’s a shady old man standing in the harem section who looks like he’ll nab Dongmin’s wallet the second he accidentally blinks too long.

It’s been at least five years of this, maybe ten. Nothing weird, because Dongmin is normal, but it’s been years of holding Sanha’s hand when they cross the street because the younger gets distracted by small animals and shiny things, years of putting back supermarket displays that Sanha ruins before any workers notice so their mother’s don’t get kicked out, years of just trailing after, pining.

There’s an a ceiling fan for the sake of circulation, but they’re sitting right under it so Eunwoo throws his parka over Sanha’s lap in case it’s chilly.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a no-sleeping policy inside the cafe.” An employee comes up to interrupt Dongmin’s introspective despair, smile apologetic and nametag reading ‘Bin.’

“No, I understand.” Dongmin sighs, finally turning his head to try and wake the brat up.

He can’t do it.

Sanha had choked some story about his mom waking him up early in the morning and dragging him around all day on their way to the manhwa cafe. The poor thing had been freezing, shivering, and was finally getting rest. Dongmin likens waking him up to giving up his humanity.

“What if I buy ramen.” Dongmin tries, reaching to grab his pocket.

“Well…” Bin looks like he’s breaking. Maybe he likes cute things too, which is understandable, or maybe he likes Sanha, which is less so.

“What if I buy two bowls.” Dongmin adds before Bin can talk himself out of this, sitting up and careful not to shift Sanha’s head too much.

Something something know thy enemy.

They end up eating ramen.

 

 

“Where were you today?” Myungjun asks, opening the door with a lighthearted scowl on his face. “I’ll have you know a specific few people were extremely annoyed at your absence.”

“Hyung,” Dongmin starts, kind of relishing the way his shoulder is still half asleep, “I think I’m in love.”


	3. First and Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanha doesn't think things through.

“Thank you.” The host of the meeting, someone from Moonbin’s dance elective, blushes; Dongmin’s pushing in her chair in so she can join their card game.

“I would feel bad saying this but since it’s clearly not true,” One of the guys at their table starts, “there were a lot of rumors about you, Dongmin hyung.”

“Oh really?” Dongmin asks, raising an eyebrow. That bastard.

“That you could be a bit… cold during meetings.” Another girl at the table chimes in. “But it turns out they were just rumors after all!”

Dongmin chooses that moment to catch Sanha’s eye, one table over, and winks. Fucking hell.  
  
Sanha really only has himself to blame for this.

___

Despite the banter, Sanha and Dongmin don’t have very many legitimate arguments. Most of the time it is words for the sake of words, words for the sake of habit, but after Sanha graduates high school and they move in together, they can’t even physically move their items into the room without someone snapping. It’s half the looming pressure of their relationship seeming more permanent, half Sanha freaking out over how old they’re both getting.

Dongmin has his clothing in these dumb plastic bins, sorted by season like he’s two days short of eighty, and protests when Sanha starts hanging his pieces up and takes up ‘more than half of the closet if anything I should get more than half because I’m older you brat.’

“These are clothes! They’re going in a closet! Where the fuck else am I going to put them?!”

“We don’t have room for all your clothes to be up!”

“We’ll just squish them then!”

“It’s not like you’re going to wear a jacket when it’s 32 degrees outside!”

“Sometimes the air conditioning is rough!”

“Then just keep one jacket!”

“What if it doesn’t match?!”

“Then you’ll go find one that does!”

“It’s so much easier hanging everything up!”

“They’re just going to collect dust!”

They can’t even drink water without fists coming out.

“Why the hell do you have so many mugs?”

“Why the fuck do you use glasses? They don’t even have handles!”

“They look prettier!”

“Who are you trying to impress? The water?! The sink?!”

“We’re going to have company!”

“And company would appreciate drinking out of something with a handle!”

“Mugs don’t look at nice!”

“We didn’t evolve bipedality just to go back to using cups without handles!”

It officially starts when they’re squabbling over where food should and should not be allowed in the apartment. That had been the specific subject at hand, if Sanha can remember correctly, but it had been prefaced by an entire day’s worth of passive aggressive shoulder language and words about how the couches in the living room were going to look.

“I propose a compromise.” Sanha declares, unsettled, exhausted, and not thinking things through. He wants to be an ass, just for the sake of being an ass, and it’s in this moment of unadulterated frustration that he remembers their agreement all those months ago. “I will not bring food into the bedroom and in return I get to use my sogetting chance.”

“What?” Dongmin parrots; it’s hard not to feel bad with the way his anger morphs into genuine confusion, the way his eyebrows drift apart and downturn.

“We agreed.” Sanha huffs, 20% resolve and 80% pride. Maybe 10-90. “I get to go on a sogetting before we get married. The last bits of my youth.”

Sanha really should have just apologised.

___

Out of a mixture or remorse and discomfort, Sanha agrees to let Dongmin arrange the date upon his insistence, then to let it turn into a group date, then for it to turn into a larger meeting an upperclassmen from Moonbin’s dance elective is hosting at the nearby Twosome Place. Fun stuff.

As for them, the entire exchange puts them in a more compromising mindset and the rest of the items get moved in without any accompanying dramatics. Dongmin more or less ignores the date coming up and they soon return back to their meaningless ribbing, so naturally that Sanha gets a little suspicious the night before it’s going to happen.

“Can you give me the upperclassman’s number in case?” Sanha asks, looking up from his tablet.

“Why do you need it?” Dongmin snorts, still staring at his book.

“It’s suspicious how everything has been on your end.” Sanha retorts, shutting the screen off and rolling to lay on his belly. “Are you sure there will be other people there?”

“Yes there will be other people there.” Dongmin rolls his eyes. “Call Moonbin if you’re not sure.”

Sanha does, just because he’s a little nervous now, never having gone on one of these things in the first place. “Just have fun.” Moonbin laughs, extremely amused by how this entire situation has turned out. “It’s not like you’re actually trying to impress anyone. Maybe meet some upperclassmen and network a little.”

“If you say so.” Sanha sighs, rolling back on his back so he can fall asleep, suspicions temporarily settled.

The skepticism is replaced by the afterthought of shame the next morning when Dongmin is already gone when Sanha wakes up the next morning, and he gets ready with a little regret, ready to just get the whole thing over with things can go back to normal.

Things reach equilibrium again soon, the universe too stacked for any reasonable person to feel bad for Lee Dongmin too long, because right after Sanha’s arrived, and before he even has a chance to introduce himself to the person sitting across from him for the first round of speed exchanges, Dongmin walks in.

Fucking-

“Help me hang up my jacket, will you?” Dongmin greets, throwing the thing over Sanha’s head, using his weighted upperclassmen tone.

“It’s not like you’re going to wear a jacket when it’s 32 degrees outside.” Sanha huffs under his breath, standing up to hang the garment up on the coat rack in the ballroom they’ve rented out.

When he gets back they’ve all abandoned the speed dating concept and have shoved all the small tables together in a makeshift circle—around Dongmin, of course.

___

“This seat taken?” Sanha jolts as someone creeps up on him from the right, as he’s shoving his face into his third piece of cake. The sole good thing that’s come out of Dongmin showing up is Sanha’s ability to steal the wallet out of his jacket pocket and pay for food with it.

“Oh, hey. Not at all.” Sanha turns to greet the only other person not vying for Dongmin’s attention, and sees what looks like Jack Skellington and Pororo’s love child. “I’m Yoon Sanha. First year.”

“Kang Chanhee. First year too.” Chanhee replies, sitting down in the abandoned chair next to Sanha.

“Not joining the fanclub?” Sanha asks, gesturing to the other table with his thumb. “Not that I don’t appreciate the company or anything.”

“I really only came because someone I’m interested was here.” Chanhee sighs, leaning his head in his hand. “He’s over there though, so it seems a little pointless to try too hard.

“I feel ya.” Sanha nods, plucking a slice of strawberry off the cake.

“I’ve seen Dongmin sunbae around campus and everything.” Chanhee groans. “But I always heard he didn’t really go to group dates. And that he wasn’t really friendly if he did go. Just my luck he shows up the one time I’m here.”

“The universe is out to get us.” Sanha agrees, breaking out into coughs when he forgets about the strawberry slice he just threw in his mouth and subsequently chokes on it.

They talk for a little while, small talk long enough for Sanha to feel like he’s gotten a little of the speed dating experience, but both start to feel a little bitter when one of the girls pulls Cards Against Humanity out of her purse and everyone at the harem table bursts out into cheers.

“We could probably go hide in the bathroom and no one would notice.” Chanhee groans, burying his head into his arms.

“Probably.” Sanha sighs, wondering if he should work on slice number four. It’s not like he’s paying.

“Wanna go hide in the bathroom?” Chanhee asks.

Sanha considers his options.

“Can I bring cake?” He asks, eyeing the German Chocolate slice on the menu.

“Why not.” Chanhee shrugs.

It’s not like they’ve got anything better to do.

The bathroom could be worse.

While the sink’s a little grimy and there’s some wads of toilet paper on the floor, it doesn’t smell bad enough to ruin Sanha’s appetite and there’s no strange stains anywhere. It’s not an actual bathroom, with stalls and urinals and shit, but a single room with a single toilet and sink with no soap dispenser. He gives up the sink to Chanhee, who’s staring in the mirror despondently, while Sanha’s squatting on the closed toilet, feet perched on the lid.

“I’m sure someone will notice at some point.” Sanha says when he notices Chanhee start to pull at his hair.

Speak of the devil and he’ll come banging on your bathroom door.

“Yoon Sanha!” He hears Dongmin roaring on the other side, syllables punctuating with solid thwacks. “The fuck are you two doing in there?!”

“Uh, eating cake? Exploring bisexuality?”

“Do you know him or something?” Chanhee asks, looking over from the sink.

“You have ten seconds to get out!” Dongmin orders.

“Yeah, sorry, did I not mention that?” Sanha replies, dumping his leftover cake, and the plate, into the trash bin. It’s all going on Dongmin’s card anyway. “He’s my husband.”


End file.
